Better Left Unsaid
by TheGuineapig3
Summary: A series of one-shots written for Tales Whump Week 2018: Dirk confronts Kratos about his parenting techniques, Lloyd asks one too many questions, Raine reflects on magic that even she doesn't understand, Anna is bad at keeping secrets, and Frank admits his true feelings about Colette's journey of regeneration.
1. Silent Treatment

**"Silent Treatment"**

Tales of Symphonia  
Words: 1786  
Characters: Kratos Aurion, Dirk, Lloyd Irving (mentioned)

 _Kratos didn't know which hurt worse- the wounds he sustained in his fight with Lloyd, or the suffocating silence he endured as Lloyd's_ real _father patched him up._

* * *

"You don't have to do this. As an angel, my body will heal quickly, even without treatment."

Kratos' words had been spoken almost as a plea when Dirk appeared with a first aid kit. Lloyd and his companions had left to confront Mithos, and Kratos' attempt to leave and recover somewhere solitary was thwarted by his inability to stand without pain. It shot through his abdomen like receiving a punch, and he'd doubled over onto the table. The next thing he knew, he had been carried upstairs and laid out on Lloyd's bed. Dirk was shuffling through his medical supplies, the smell of medicinal herbs filling the room and clouding Kratos' thoughts. Dirk was saying something about internal hemorrhage and types of poultices that could help with the bruising. The scientific name _Arnica unalaschensis_ was thrown around, and if Kratos' thoughts hadn't been so muddled, he might have been able to identify exactly what the plant was. But with the pain, the thick haze of herbal smells, and the burning humiliation of being in such a vulnerable position, it was all he could do just to protest.

Dirk considered Kratos' words for only a moment before he shook his head.

"Aye, that mebbe true, but Dwarven Vow 2 says ne'er abandon someain in need. Sae you're stuck here wi' me until yer wounds are healed."

And for an entire week, that was it.

Besides a few single words here and there as instructions, Dirk didn't say a thing. At the beginning, Kratos didn't feel like making conversation, so he didn't mind the silence. But as the week continued, it became clear that Dirk wasn't staying quiet out of respect toward his patient. Kratos tried to catch his eyes, but Dirk was avoiding eye contact, and when their eyes did meet, the look Dirk gave him held none of the friendliness he usually expressed in his oft-quoted Dwarven Vows. It felt more along the lines of a lesser-known vow- 29, _beware the anger of a patient man_. Kratos didn't know Dirk well enough to assess his usual patience levels, but anyone could see right now that the Dwarf was _angry_.

Kratos could only think of one reason for that anger.

 _Lloyd._

But what was it aboutLloyd? Was Dirk angry about Kratos' initial betrayal of Lloyd and his friends? About his connection with Cruxis and the Desians? About his lies and secrecy to prevent his son from learning the truth about their relationship?

Or… was Dirk afraid of losing Lloyd now that his birth-father was in the picture?

The thought was chilling, and Kratos didn't want to dwell on it. But left with no other human interaction, the thought ran through his mind over and over until eventually he couldn't take it anymore.

"Dirk, I know you don't want to talk to me, but there's something I need to say."

No longer bedridden at that point, Kratos came downstairs for meals, usually eating in silence at the same table where he knew Lloyd had grown up eating. That day's dinner was waiting for him as usual, and Dirk was at the hearth cleaning up the soiled dishes. At the sound of Kratos' voice, he turned and looked up.

"Eat yer supper first. Ye donnae want yer food tae get cold."

"I don't mind. This is important."

Still holding a plate in one hand and a sponge in the other, Dirk stopped scrubbing to consider the statement. After a moment's pause, he sighed and returned the plate to the pot of sudsy water. "Alrecht, what dae ye want?"

Kratos took a deep breath and plunged forward. "I can tell that you're angry with me. I don't begrudge you that; you have plenty of perfectly justified reasons to feel that way. If it's because of my involvement with Cruxis- with the Desians- I understand. If it's for my betrayal of Lloyd and his friends, I understand. If it's for my absence most of Lloyd's life, I understand that too. But I want you to understand, I'm not here to take your job. You are Lloyd's father. You have been for the past fourteen years and you always will be. I don't intend to come between you and Lloyd. He already has a father, and a _good_ one at that. He doesn't need me." Kratos stopped to catch his breath, lowering his gaze to the floor. "Once I'm fully healed, I'm going to leave you and Lloyd to live your lives without my interference. So if the thought of losing Lloyd is what's troubling you, I want you to know that he's yours. You have nothing to be angry about."

There was a pause. Kratos felt his nervousness pricking against his skin, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. He had to force his head back up when Dirk spoke again, and immediately regretted it once he saw the fierceness in the Dwarf's glare.

"Nothin' tae be angry about? _Nothin'?!_ This is _exactly_ why I'm sae angry with ye! Ye donnae get it at all!"

"Wha-?"

Dirk approached Kratos, pointing an accusatory finger up at him. "I know I've nae been a perfect father tae him, but I believe Lloyd has grown intae a fine lad and I'm proud ay him. What is it about him that bothers ye sae much? Dae ye 'hink he's nae smart enough? That he's tae reckless? Is he tae much of a goody-two-shoes fer yer likin'?"

Kratos took a step back, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about? I adore Lloyd-"

"Then why are ye sae keen tae be rid ay him?"

The words cut like a knife. "Rid of him?" Kratos repeated. "I don't understand."

Dirk stared for another tense moment before turning away and releasing a long sigh, his shoulders relaxing as if he were breathing out his anger and frustration.

"Ye… keep abandonin' him. Ye left him behind, ye betrayed him, ye appeared only tae gie cryptic clues an' then disappear again like it ne'er happened… ye were ready tae up an' _die_ on him. An' now that he's forgiven ye for all that ye've dain tae him, ye're jist gonnae _leave him_?"

Kratos' mouth hung open as he processed Dirk's accusations. Lloyd had evidently told his dad more about his journey than Kratos realized. None of what Dirk had said was false, at least in terms of what had happened. But…

"Giving up my life was the only way to ensure that Lloyd's group could make a pact with Origin," Kratos explained. "I was trying to protect Lloyd, to aid him in his quest to create the kind of world he's striving for. He's worked so hard. He deserves that. I'm proud of him."

"Bit nae proud enough tae stay with him?"

Once again, the room filled with tense silence. In contrast to the past few days of little to no eye contact from Dirk, Kratos now found himself under the full force of the Dwarf's stare. It was scathing enough, but what really got to him was the realization that _this_ had been the source of Dirk's behavior the whole time. He hadn't been worried that Kratos would take Lloyd away from him- in fact, the opposite was true. Dirk _wanted_ Kratos to be part of Lloyd's life.

The fact that he had assumed otherwise sent a pang of guilt through Kratos' chest.

"Dirk, I… I'm so sorry."

"Sorry fer what?" Dirk asked, and Kratos realized he should have clarified.

"I'm sorry for… for thinking so poorly of you as to imagine you were jealous. You brought me into your home, took care of me even though I can heal on my own, fed me even though I don't need to eat… I knew you were angry, but instead of asking you what was wrong, I let my wild fantasies take over."

"I'm sorry tae. I let my anger an' frustration gie th' better ay me, an' I treated ye poorly. I should hae been honest frae th' start, scolded ye properly once ye were awake enough tae understand." Dirk looked away. "I ken that Lloyd is a strong lad. I donnae want tae gie in th' way ay his quest to save th' worlds. I'm nae a fighter, I can't gang wi' him an' his group. Stayin' here an' supportin' him at my forge is the best thing I can dae fer him. Bit I've grown sae used tae his presence around th' house these past fourteen years, I wake up every mornin' an' th' realization that I willnae see his smilin' face o' hear his voice makes me want tae turn back o'er an' gang back tae sleep. I miss him, an' it's like an awful weight on my chest 'at makes it hard tae breathe, hard tae move, hard tae dae anythin'. Ev'ry time he comes home, I hope an' pray 'at he's back fer good. It's a selfish, unrealistic fantasy, an' I would ne'er say it out loud tae him. Bit you…"

Kratos took a step forward to close the gap between them. "…I had the chance to be with him," he finished, "and I didn't. I squandered opportunities that Lloyd's _real_ father would've done anything to have. It's no wonder he's so angry with me."

There was a pause, and Dirk finally allowed himself to look at Kratos again. "Ye're nae less his 'real father' than I am. Dwarven Vow 162," he began, "th' best time tae plant a tree was twenty years ago; th' second-best time is now."

He didn't need to interpret the proverb for Kratos' to understand what he was getting at. With a smile, Kratos turned back toward the table and took a seat in front of his plate. Dirk sat across from him, motioning toward the food.

"I told ye earlier, supper'll get cold if ye donnae eat it now."

Kratos looked down at the meal- a simple plate of potatoes and minced meat. He'd made it clear to Dirk early on that he didn't need the food, yet Dirk had cooked proper meals for him every day despite the animosity between them. Maybe it was because of his adherence to the Dwarven vows, or maybe it was because he missed cooking for Lloyd, or… maybe…

"You know," Kratos began as he picked up his fork, "earlier I said that my angel abilities help me heal quickly, but these wounds seem particularly severe. I may not be fully healed for a while- until Lloyd gets back at the very least."

For the first time that evening, Dirk cracked a smile.

"That's tae bad. I guess ye'll be stuck here 'till then, huh?"

"I guess I will."


	2. The Zoonosis Protocol

**"The Zoonosis Protocol"**

Tales of Symphonia  
Words: 2087  
Characters: Lloyd Irving, Kratos Aurion

 _A casual conversation between Lloyd and Kratos turns unexpectedly sour when Lloyd asks a seemingly innocent question and Kratos gives a much less innocent answer. Why were the human ranches programmed with a self-destruct sequence anyway? What did they think they'd need to destroy?_

* * *

It was a hot day- too hot for combat practice in Lloyd's opinion, but Kratos had said something about "being prepared to fight in adverse conditions," so Lloyd had followed his father out into the forest with his swords anyway. They had sparred over and over, Kratos making adjustments to Lloyd's technique along the way, but it only took an hour for the heat to overcome them. Lloyd felt like he was about to collapse, and Kratos didn't look much better.

They settled down for a rest in the shade, and Kratos handed Lloyd one of the canteens of water he'd brought with them. Lloyd gratefully accepted it and downed it in a few quick swigs, ignoring Kratos' warnings about drinking too fast. As he handed the canteen back, he thought back to some of the conversations they'd had recently. Kratos had been much more open about things since the worlds were at peace, answering Lloyd's questions about his mother, about Noishe, about Mithos and the Kharlan War, and even about Cruxis and the Desians. A visit with Genis and Raine the other day had reminded Lloyd of a question that had been nagging at the back of his mind for awhile, and he figured this was as good a time as any to ask it.

"I've been thinking… why is it that the Desians programmed self-destruct sequences into their ranch systems? Seems a little convenient for us, don't you think?"

It was, as far as Lloyd knew, an ignorant question. Perhaps Kratos would even find it funny, maybe laugh it off. Those silly Desians and their easily-destroyed ranches, making it too simple for the good guys to cripple their infrastructure and save the day, right? That silly Lloyd, questioning something he ought to just appreciate, right? Kratos would give him an amused scolding and they could continue their lesson in high spirits.

But Kratos didn't laugh. He didn't even smile.

"What brought this question about?" Kratos asked, turning his whole body to face Lloyd. "Did Professor Raine say something to you yesterday?"

"No, it's not that," Lloyd replied, shaking his head. "But when I was walking back from the village, I passed by the remains of the Iselia Ranch, and… I thought about the fact that it's really the only one left intact now, since the others were destroyed or flooded. I guess I started thinking- hey! That sure was great that we were able to destroy them with their own technology! And it seemed a little odd to me. So I figured you would be the one to ask."

There was a moment of silence as Kratos stared at Lloyd, as though examining him. Lloyd somehow felt as though he was being tested, as though Kratos was unsure how serious his question was and was scrutinizing him for any sign that he might be joking.

"Wh-what's with that look? Is it such a stupid question?" Lloyd leaned in closer. "I was just curious, is all-"

Kratos held up a hand to cut him off. "No, you have a right to be curious. It's not a stupid question, really. The ranches weren't originally constructed with self-destruct mechanisms. They were added to the plans later, around 1800 years ago."

"Huh? Why'd they add them?"

"It was Mithos'… Lord Yggdrasil's idea," Kratos began, his voice hesitant. "It was part of a contingency program he put in after a major disaster killed a large number of people both in and outside of one of the ranches at the time."

Lloyd was surprised, but also intrigued by the story. He sat up straighter and reached for the canteen again as he listened. "But how is a self-destruct system supposed to prevent a disaster?" he asked before taking another big gulp of water. "Like, it could really hurt people if they were stuck inside when it was activated."

"Actually, that was the point. The systems were designed with the intention to kill everyone and every _thing_ inside the ranch."

Lloyd froze, his stomach churning. It might've been from drinking the water too fast, but he suddenly felt like he was going to throw up. He made sure the lid on the canteen was secure and slowly pushed it away from him.

"I… don't understand… why would they… how does that help? You said it was a plan to prevent deaths, right? Then-"

"It's complicated," Kratos answered, cutting him off again. "The focus of the ranches was always the development of exspheres, but as part of that goal, there have always been other activities. Around two-thousand years ago, Cruxis began studies into the genetic component of exsphere host compatibility. As you're aware, the better suited the host, the stronger the exsphere can develop before being removed. They successfully identified certain genes which predisposed humans to being better exsphere hosts. However, their… breeding programs… proved too costly and time-consuming to justify the benefits."

Lloyd felt his chest tighten and his fists clench at the words "breeding programs." Kratos seemed disgusted to even say it, and Lloyd didn't blame him. The way Desians had treated humans was despicable, as though they were nothing but livestock to be used and disposed of. Kratos continued, but the story didn't get any lighter.

"Instead of selective breeding, they began working on a more direct approach using horizontal gene transfer. This uses independent genetic materials known as replicons to introduce new genes into host cells. The most efficient replicons for gene delivery are viruses, but it can be dangerous to use pathogenic viruses as vectors without properly deleting the genome needed for viral replication-" Kratos stopped himself as he noticed Lloyd's eyes starting to glaze over. "-er, in more simple terms, they were using viruses to 'infect' human cells with the genes they wanted."

"Okay, I kinda get it…" Lloyd murmured. "But don't viruses make people sick?"

"They can. That was what led to the disaster at the old Palmacosta ranch." Kratos closed his eyes and sighed. "I wasn't involved, so I'm not completely sure what happened. All I know is that, through some mistake- or potentially through intentional sabotage, given how careful the researchers were- several human test subjects in the ranch were exposed to a dangerous pathogenic form of one of the viruses."

"And ' _pathogenic_ ' means…"

"Infectious. Makes people sick."

"Ah, I see."

There was a pause, and Kratos seemed to be considering what to say next. The sunshine overhead was slowly obscured by a cloud, darkening the forest around them. The cooler air was a relief, but the change in the atmosphere made Lloyd nervous in a way that he couldn't quite identify.

Once Kratos continued, his voice had taken on a more detached tone, almost professional in the way he pronounced the words. Lloyd had caught onto the subtle changes in Kratos' voice now, noticing the different way he pronounced things when he was relaxed. There was the slightest hint of an unfamiliar accent, something different from anything Lloyd had ever heard in his travels. Lloyd figured it was a remnant of some long-dead dialect from Kratos' ancient hometown, but it disappeared completely when Kratos was serious.

That, of course, was most of the time, but it had become less and less dominant when Lloyd and Kratos were alone together. Hearing it again so suddenly caught Lloyd off-guard.

"Humans, elves, and half-elves are all the same species, much as some of them want to believe otherwise. Their physiology is somewhat different, but in general, any pathogen that can infect humans can infect elves and half-elves with no trouble. Despite this, the Desians didn't believe- didn't want to believe- that they could contract or even carry diseases of… _inferior beings_. They took no precautions to protect themselves from the virus as it began to kill humans at the ranch. They didn't think twice about sending messengers to other ranches or sending representatives to the nearby towns for replacement supplies. By the time the first Desian began to display symptoms, they had exposed hundreds of others, and those hundreds had then exposed thousands more. The epidemic lasted years and claimed tens of thousands of lives, both half-elf and human. Besides the emotional toll on everyone involved, the loss of both researchers and test subjects was a severe setback to Cruxis' operations, and Lord Yggdrasil put measures in place to ensure it never happened again. He banned the use of potentially pathogenic vectors in genetic testing, set out new decontamination and quarantine protocols for test subjects, and had self-destruct mechanisms installed in all the ranches in order to eliminate a potential future outbreak."

Lloyd fidgeted with his hands uncomfortably, processing the information. "I-I never heard that side of the story before. We learned about it in history class, the so-called Red Plague that killed a third of Sylvarant's population almost two-thousand years ago. They say the official name was Red Plague because early symptoms involved coughing up blood, but supposedly it was called the Desian Plague in some circles because they believed it was caused by the Desians as an attack on humanity. Professor Raine said that was just a myth, though, because, bad as the Desians were, they didn't have any control over human diseases. I… can't believe it was true after all."

"Well, it wasn't true that it was an intentional attack on humanity," Kratos replied. "Whatever it was, accident or sabotage, it hurt Cruxis as well. So much so that future Desians who worked in ranches were prepared to give their lives should another outbreak occur. Lord Yggdrasil- Mithos- gave the program a horrible, _horrible_ name too… the 'Zoonosis Protocol."

Lloyd's eyes widened. "That _is_ a horrible name. What the hell is a zoonosis? Like, he could've at least used a shorter word that normal people understand-"

"A zoonosis refers to a disease that can be transferred between animals and people," Kratos interrupted. "He was, in no uncertain terms, calling humans animals."

Lloyd went silent. He could physically feel the color draining from his face and turned his head away so that Kratos wouldn't see how sick he looked. Once it was clear Lloyd wasn't going to say anything, Kratos continued, his voice changing back to its casual tone yet again.

"That was the first time I realized how far gone Mithos was. It was clear before, but I didn't notice it or didn't want to notice it. But when he blatantly referred to humans as animals, I couldn't deny it any longer. The Mithos I had once known, the one who wanted to find a way for everyone in the world to live at peace with one another, was gone. He was now someone who was prioritizing revenge over everything else, someone who had let his hatred take over. That was the moment I felt like… like I'd truly lost him."

The cloud that had been sitting in front of the sun finally passed, and the forest was once again bathed in sunlight. The ground where Lloyd and Kratos were sitting was lit up with patches of light filtering in from the trees above, and Kratos seemed to be focusing his attention on those rather than on his son. Lloyd looked back at him and scooted closer.

"If you knew so long ago, then why did you stay with Cruxis? Why did you keep working for Yggdrasil?"

"Because I didn't have anything else," Kratos answered, still not looking up. "I didn't have any family other than Mithos. I might've 'lost' him, but as long as I didn't let go, I still had something to do, something to live for."

Lloyd was silent again, but he moved even closer and slipped his arm around Kratos' elbow so that their arms were linked together. Kratos turned to look at him in surprise, and Lloyd offered a smile.

"Well, you have something to live for now, right?"

The statement elicited a rare smile from Kratos. "Yes, I do," he answered, "and he's managed to chat away a _lot_ of his practice time."

"Wh- hey! That's not-" Lloyd pried himself away, holding his hands up in defense. Kratos just laughed and pulled himself to his feet.

"Raine warned me you were particularly good at this technique, asking time-wasting questions to get out of her lectures."

"I-I didn't do this on purpose! I was really curious! And anyway, you were the one who talked forever!"

"Yes, I should've been more wary. Now pick up your swords; we have more practice to do before it gets dark."

"Aw, but _Kratos_ …"


	3. Lost Artes

**"Lost Artes"**

Tales of Symphonia  
Words: 1738  
Characters: Raine, Virginia, Genis Sage

 _Raine studied healing magic for her brother's sake. It allowed her to heal cuts, scrapes, bruises, broken bones, and all manner of other wounds he might suffer. Unfortunately, healing spells couldn't do anything for infections. Long ago, she had trusted in a magic stronger than any other, one that could heal instantly and completely… but now she knew that it was a lie. That magic she'd once believed in had never existed in the first place, and there was no way it would help her or Genis now._

* * *

There was a knock on the door.

It was late, but the child's bedroom was illuminated by candlelight, and it reflected off the long, silver hair of the woman who entered. She was a tall, elegant woman, carrying a tray with a steaming mug of tea and a tiny cup filled with a thick, reddish liquid. Her gaze moved across the floor, littered with books and dolls, and over to the bed where the little girl was curled up with her eyes closed. The woman smiled and approached the bed, sitting down at the foot and speaking softly to her daughter.

"I see that book you're hiding under the blankets. If you're awake enough to read, you're awake enough to take your medicine."

The girl, no more than seven years old, opened her eyes and reluctantly pulled the book out. It was a thick, leather-bound tome that appeared far too advanced for a child her age, but the woman knew better. She waited until her daughter had marked her page and set it aside, and then placed the tray in front of her.

"Tea?" the girl asked in a hoarse voice. "Daddy lets me have sherbet with my medicine."

The mother placed a hand over her mouth to conceal her amused smile. "Is that so?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Because, according to your father, you told him that _I_ let you have sherbet with your medicine."

The girl's already flushed face turned an even deeper shade of red. "Th-the cold makes my throat feel better!"

"This tea has lemon juice and honey in it," the woman answered, still smiling. "It will do far more to help your throat. Now take your medicine while it's cooling down, okay?"

The girl sighed in defeat and picked up the little cup, examining its contents. She took a sniff of the red liquid and made a disgusted face, but her mother didn't say anything, so she steeled her nerves and swallowed it down in one quick gulp.

"That's my girl," the woman said with a smile, taking the cup from her daughter and pushing the mug of tea towards her. The girl grabbed the mug and took a sip, her grimace mellowing back into a smile as the taste of lemon and honey washed away the echoes of that awful medicine. The tea not only tasted good, it soothed her sore throat, and she closed her eyes to relish the absence of pain for at least a moment.

That moment ended too soon, unfortunately, as she fell into a coughing fit. Tears stung her eyes as each heave of her lungs cut into her sore throat like knives, and she fumbled for the tea only to have her desperate gulp interrupted by another cough that sent tea sloshing all down the front of her nightshirt and across the tray. Her mother swooped in, grabbing the mug from her to prevent any further spills and setting it aside on the nightstand before returning to dab at her soiled nightshirt with a dry cloth.

"There, there, it's alright. It didn't get on the blanket. Let's get you into a new shirt, and then you can go right back to bed, okay?"

The girl didn't answer, going limp and allowing her mother to pull her from bed and lead her across the room to stand beside the dresser. Once she was dressed in clean clothes, she followed her mother back to the side of the bed. But instead of crawling back under the blankets, she just stood by her mother's side and clung to her dress.

"It… it hurts so much, Mommy…" The girl's voice was so low it was almost inaudible, but her mother caught every word. She let out a sigh and scooped her daughter up in her arms, sitting down on the bed to let the girl rest in her lap.

"Oh, baby, I know. I know it hurts." The woman leaned down, pressing her forehead against her daughter's to feel the heat radiating from it. "I'm so sorry. So sorry."

The little girl closed her eyes and leaned over to rest her head against her mother's chest. "I wish…" she began through sobs, "…that you could use a spell and make it better."

"I wish I could too. But you know why I can't, don't you?"

The girl nodded. "It's 'cause the regenerative effects of the spell would affect the bacteria too, worsening the infection."

"That's right. Healing magic can't differentiate between host cells and parasites." The woman placed her daughter back on the bed, arranging the blankets around her and putting the tray back in front so that she could continue drinking her tea. The girl looked up at her mother with a pensive frown.

"Why can't they make a spell that can differentiate the good cells from the bad?"

"Hm, I wonder. If someone hasn't made it yet, it must be very difficult. But you're smart enough that perhaps you could invent a spell like that yourself one day."

The girl took another slow sip of tea. "I don't want it one day. I want it now."

"Well, then…" The mother sat down on the bed, leaning over her daughter with a loving smile. She began to stroke the child's hair as she continued. "…perhaps I'll teach you about a magic that's strong enough to cure any disease."

"Huh? What's that? How come I've never heard of it?"

"It's very, very special. Not everyone can do it."

"Can I do it?"

"Hmm, not for a long time yet. But perhaps someday." The woman leaned down and kissed her daughter's forehead. "You see, no matter what you might read in books or learn in school, a mother's love for her child is stronger than any magic in the world. And I love you _so much_ , Raindrop. So you'll get better soon, I promise."

Raine sat up straighter and wrapped her arms around Virginia's neck. "I love you too, Mommy," she replied softly. "I feel better already."

No, she hadn't been miraculously cured, but there was something different about the pain now. Somehow, it didn't hurt quite so much.

…

" _It… it hurts so much, Raine…_ "

The little boy was almost four years old, but his tiny frame was so stunted from malnourishment that he didn't look his age. He was curled up in a pile of old, moth-eaten blankets in a dry corner of an old, abandoned barn, listening to the rain as it poured on the roof overhead. A girl, no more than fifteen, sat beside him pressing a cool, wet rag to his burning forehead.

"Oh, Genis, I know. I know it hurts." Tears streamed down her face and she had to force her words between choked-back sobs. "I'm so sorry. So sorry."

She knew it wasn't a serious illness, but it was still causing him pain, and that was reason enough for her to worry. Sylvarant didn't have the antibiotics that Tethe'alla did, and the medicine they did have, she couldn't seem to get to. Businesses refused to serve them, and the villagers kept their distance. People tended to avert their eyes, and the ones who were willing to look mostly gave judgemental scoffs when they saw a teenage girl carrying around a little toddler. Raine knew there was no point in trying to defend herself. These people had already made up their minds. The only person she needed to worry about now was her brother.

"Use the spell," Genis pleaded, tugging at her sleeve. "Use the spell to make it stop hurting."

"I can't."

"You gotta. You can always make it stop hurting."

Raine shook her head and reached across the floorboards for the cup of water that was set aside to catch rainwater dripping through the holes in the roof. It was all she could give him now, since any potential kindling was too soaked through to make even a small fire for tea. "Not this time, Genis," she answered, pushing the water towards him. He shoved it away- or at least, he attempted to. He was so weak by this point, all he really did was tap the cup with the side of his hand.

"I don't wanna drink. It hurts too bad."

"I know it does, but you need the water. Please, will you drink a little just for me?"

"Then make it not hurt!" Genis snapped, starting to sob as he continued. "You always, always make it not hurt! You always fix it! Why aren't you? _Why do you hate me?_ "

The accusation was nothing more than the desperate ramblings of a pained and feverish toddler who didn't know better. Raine knew that he didn't mean it. But it cut deep nonetheless, and she briefly considered giving him a quick lesson in germ theory just to prove that she didn't hate him. Genis was smart- he could already read from the tattered books she'd managed to scrounge from junkyards and library discard piles, he could write his own name in the dirt with a stick, he could count up to one-hundred and add single-digit numbers with ease… but understanding the difference between wound healing and the immune response required to fight a pathogen was so far beyond even a four-year-old prodigy, Raine knew better than to stress him out with words he didn't understand. He needed reassurance now, not logic or explanations.

Raine didn't try to argue, didn't try to voice her internal protests of ' _I don't hate you; I could never hate you_.' Instead, she simply lay down in the blankets next to Genis and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close to her side. He initially started to squirm, but he seemed to lose the energy and went limp again. Tired and in pain, he buried his face in her chest and cried.

It was all she could do not to cry with him. "I love you, Genis," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love you _so much_."

It didn't matter if he heard her or not. The words wouldn't do anything to help. They hadn't done anything to prevent the two from ending up in this position, hadn't done anything to make their lives easier or provide for them in this strange, unfamiliar place. Those words she had treasured so long ago no longer held any meaning.

So… why did she feel compelled to speak them anyway?


	4. Family Planning

**"Family Planning"**

Tales of Symphonia  
Words: 3708 way longer than i expected; i need to be Stopped™  
Characters: Kratos Aurion, Anna Irving, Noishe  
Pairing: Kratos/Anna

 _Anna Irving was the kind of person who wasn't afraid of anything. Kratos had known her for years before the first time he ever saw true, unbridled fear in her eyes. He'd always imagined that moment with him stepping in to defend her from whatever had scared her… so he hadn't considered that_ he _would be the one she was afraid of._

* * *

Anna has been especially secretive for a few weeks now.

Kratos wasn't worried at first- after all, this wasn't the first time she had been like this. A few years back, she had planned for months to throw him a surprise birthday party, doing her best to keep her plans under wraps. He had figured it out, of course, but was happy to play along. Their unpredictable life, constantly moving from place to place to keep Cruxis off their trail, was stressful and Anna deserved to have her fun when she could. Besides that, Kratos respected her privacy. When she requested time alone, he always allowed it unless there was a reason to suspect her life might be in danger. Many times when visiting cities for supplies, they split up to avoid drawing attention to themselves. If Anna suggested they keep a low profile by separating for a few hours or even days, Kratos usually trusted her intuition. She knew well the dangers they faced and Kratos was grateful for the keen senses she'd developed while living in the human ranch. He hadn't been given a reason to distrust her.

At least, not until now.

Her attitude and stamina seemed to be deteriorating, and the number of times she refused dinner was starting to get suspicious. At night she tossed and turned to the point that he started to lose sleep as well, and his questions about her wellbeing were met with the same chipper " _I'm fine!_ " every time. Noishe had started trailing especially close to her, whining pitifully whenever she left his side. Kratos began to worry, and while he forced himself to give her the space she wanted, eventually she went on a walk with Noishe after lunch one day and only Noishe returned.

Kratos followed a panicked Noishe over Anna's usual walking route and managed to find her beside a large oak tree, doubled over and half-conscious. He carried her back to their current hideout and put her in bed, looking her over to see what was wrong. She wasn't feverish, but she was dehydrated, so his first reaction was to give her water. Anna was conscious enough to sit up and drink, but even slow sips of water seemed to exacerbate her nausea. Kratos had seen severe gastrointestinal illnesses product similar symptoms, but he wasn't totally sure what to do.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked as he refilled the glass of water. "When was the last time you were able to keep something down?"

Anna was making a point not to look at him. "It comes and goes," she answered. "I'll be fine. I just need some rest."

"Without food to give you energy, resting will only do so much. And if you stay dehydrated like this, you're only going to get worse."

Anna frowned, glanced over at the glass of water, and looked back at Kratos.

"Can you get me some juice? I still have a bad taste in my mouth from earlier, so the water isn't exactly helping. And maybe a biscuit too- one of those really bland ones."

Satisfied that Noishe was watching over her, Kratos moved to the cupboard and fished through their supplies for the hardtack they kept on hand in case of emergencies. She hadn't specified what kind of juice, so he chose an orange from the bag of supplies he'd brought in from Palmacosta the day before, hoping the extra vitamins would help her fight whatever infection was.

But, come to think of it… she'd been acting strange for a long time now. Had she been this ill the whole time? Is that why Noishe was being so attentive? If Anna was having trouble keeping food down, it was no wonder she was losing energy. Why hadn't she told him? She never hid when she was feeling sick. The sooner they identified what was wrong, the sooner they could treat it, and they had come to an unspoken understanding that their pride was not as important as their safety in situations like these. The only explanation he could think of was that she was suffering from something that wasn't curable. But that was absurd- she might be uncomfortable and potentially putting herself in danger from outside sources, but she wasn't _dying_.

Maybe, then, it was just the opposite.

Kratos' hand slipped on the reamer, and orange juice and seeds sloshed out onto the counter. He grabbed a rag to clean it up, but his mind was elsewhere. He was trying to reason with himself, trying to rule out his sudden, absurd hypothesis. She would've told him about something like that, he was sure of it! He was mostly sure of it. Okay, he wanted to be sure of it. But the thought wouldn't leave his mind. It also didn't help that when he stopped to review their recent, erm, _activities_ , he realized how little care they'd taken to prevent something like this. It had only been a matter of time before an… _accident_ happened.

Trying to dispel thoughts he hadn't yet confirmed, Kratos thought back to the medicine he'd been considering. Herbal tea was something they kept on hand for such occasions as a good cure-all for sinus, throat, and stomach problems. It would help with her nausea, and he was pretty sure it was safe for- _oh, here we go again._

At this point, he might as well be blunt and ask. If it wasn't the case, the worst he might get was a slap and a scolding for being rude. But if it was, then they could discuss it. He could find out why she'd been keeping it from him and what she planned to do. Kratos set a kettle of water on the hearth for tea and poured the juice into a cup to take back to Anna. She was sitting up by this point, and hungrily accepted the biscuits and juice despite Kratos' warnings to eat and drink slowly. He sighed as he watched her and finally steeled himself to speak.

"Anna, may I ask a particularly stupid question?"

She looked up from her half-eaten biscuit and swallowed. "Isn't that usually my job?"

Her sense of humor was coming back. That was a good sign at least.

"Your job right now is resting and feeling better. I was trying to come up with a diagnosis just with the symptoms I've seen, but I…" He cut off his sentence, not wanting to talk in circles any longer. "Anna, are you pregnant?"

He saw her freeze with the cup of juice still pressed to her lips. Noishe let out a punctuated whine, sending her unease. Anna swallowed the rest of the juice and gently handed the cup back to him.

"I'm… feeling tired. I should get some sleep."

"It's two o'clock in the afternoon, Anna. I just need an answer-"

"Didn't you just say that my job right now is to rest? I have work to do."

She didn't give him a chance to protest, diving back against her pillow and pulling the blankets over her head. Kratos sighed and pulled himself to his feet, trying to come to terms with the situation.

He knew Anna well enough to know that he'd just received a clear "yes."

Noishe had curled up next to her on the bed, so Kratos went back to the cupboard and looked over the teas they had on-hand. What was good for nausea again? Ginger? Mint? He pulled each container out and looked them over, but he couldn't force himself to think too hard about them. Not when he had so much weighing on his mind. More than anything, he didn't want her suffering like this. He wanted to make her feel better, had to make her feel better. Maybe he could blend them together? If one of the teas was good on its own, then TWO of them together would be even-

 _Look at me. I'm so flustered, I'm starting to use Anna's messed-up logic._

Still, he put a little of both in the infuser. Might as well give it a try, at least.

He left the tea to brew and passed the time watching Anna and Noishe curled up in the bed next to one another. It was obvious that she wasn't asleep; beneath the blankets he could see her giving Noishe a good scratch- just below his right ear, if that familiar twitch of his leg was any indication. It wasn't an uncommon scene; Noishe seemed to love Anna even more than Kratos did, and Anna returned the sentiment. For the first time, Kratos imagined a third member of the group curled up in the middle, a tiny child wrapped up in Anna's arms and resting against Noishe's soft fur. What would the child be like? Would it inherit Anna's beautiful brown eyes and dark hair? Her inner strength and optimism? Her boundless enthusiasm for the world she lived in and the people she loved…?

His heart raced from the vivid images, and he had to stop himself before he got too involved. That was a dangerous road to go down, given that Anna was still trying to hide the situation from him. He hadn't worked out why yet, but he had some ideas. It wasn't that she was afraid he'd leave her- no, Anna wasn't the sharpest, but she wasn't _that_ stupid either. And she couldn't hide it forever, given that it would become visibly obvious within a few months. But if she hadn't told him by now, perhaps she never planned to. Maybe she was searching for someone who could safely terminate the pregnancy and hoped that she could spare her husband the pain and worry by leaving him none the wiser. If that was the case, he needed to support her rather than get too attached to those fantasies.

Another thought occurred to him along those lines- was she afraid he'd try to stop her? It was her body, her decision, and with the Desians still pouring resources into the search for the Angelus exsphere, avoiding the physical toll of a pregnancy and the work involved in childcare might be the best course of action for her own safety. But Kratos couldn't be sure what she was thinking, and what she thought he was thinking was an even greater mystery.

After all that thinking about thinking, he finally realised that the tea had been steeping for at least twenty minutes. He stumbled awkwardly over to the teapot and poured a cup for her. It was strong, but perhaps that was a good thing. All he wanted was for it to help.

"Anna, I know you're not asleep. Sit up; I made you some tea."

She poked her head out from under the blankets and frowned, but sat up anyway. "I'm feeling a lot better. Maybe having something in my stomach helped after all. I don't need any tea-"

"You only had one glass of juice, so I'm sure you're still dehydrated. Just try to drink the tea, will you?"

Anna's stuck out her bottom lip in a pout, and once Kratos handed her the cup, she made a show of analyzing the scent.

"What is this?"

"It's, er, my own personal blend…" Kratos looked away, suddenly embarrassed that he'd thrown it together so haphazardly. "Just try it. It should make things better."

Anna's frown grew stern and she handed the cup back to Kratos. "I'm not going to drink this."

"Please, Anna, don't be so stubborn. If it would help, I could put some honey in it-"

"NO, I'M NOT GOING TO!"

She shoved the cup back at him, not even thinking about the temperature of its contents. It spilled across his arm and chest, and he let out a scream of pain that sent Noishe scrambling to his feet. Anna gasped and reached for him, her voice cracking with a pitiful " _oh no, no, no, I'm so sorry, I-_ " but Kratos had already gotten up to retrieve the shards of the broken cup that now littered the floor. He picked up as many as he could and took them across the room to the kitchen area, and as he did so, he heard Anna get up from bed.

"Hey, don't go anywhere. There are still some sharp pieces on the flo- _hey_! Anna!"

She was already at the door by the time he turned around, and he could hear her sobbing as she ran out into the mid-afternoon sun. Noishe followed, and Kratos shoved the cup shards aside to run after them. The burns on his arm and torso were minor, and could easily be soothed with some aloe later. His concern now was figuring out just what had made Anna so upset- and what he could do to avoid upsetting her like this again.

"…Anna?" Kratos walked around the side of the structure, an old abandoned bunker built into one of the hillsides north of Palmacosta. It was a great place to hide: cool, comfortable, and invisible from any of the main roads, while still maintaining the semblance of a home. Anna loved it and tried not to loiter around the outside for fear that tipping off any passersby of their location would mean they'd have to abandon the bunker altogether. It took Kratos a few minutes to figure out where she had gone, but he eventually was able to follow the sound of her crying to a large tree near the riverbank. Noishe was pacing around the outside, and Anna was curled up inside a hollow in the trunk. As soon as Noishe saw Kratos approaching, he ran around behind him and pushed him closer.

"Y-yes, Noishe, I see her. I'm going, I'm going, don't push-"

Kratos' reassurances were cut off as he tripped over an exposed tree root and fell over, grabbing onto the tree trunk for support. He was leaning over Anna, and saw her eyes widen at the sight of him.

He'd never seen her eyes like that before. They were full of sheer terror, the likes of which she had never shown even in the face of Desian experiments and torture. It made her look so small, so young, so vulnerable, Kratos' wanted nothing more than to step in and protect her from whatever it was that was causing her such fear. Unfortunately, he realized… it was him.

" _Get away from me!_ " Anna yelled, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. " _Don't touch me!_ "

"I'm not… I won't…" Kratos stepped back and fell to his knees, holding up his hands to show that he had no intention of reaching towards her. "Whatever I've done to scare you, I'm so sorry. Please tell me so I can make it right. I don't want to hurt you- I just want to make things better."

His posture and words seemed to reassure her, and she relaxed a little. "I…" she stammered through sobs. "…I don't want to ' _make it better_."

"What do you mean? You really want to keep feeling so awful?"

"Yes! I do!"

"Why?"

There was a pause. Anna removed one arm from around her waist in order to wipe away the tears that were flowing faster now. "B-because I… I want to do whatever I can to… protect my baby…"

There. It was the first time she'd confirmed it outright. Somehow, even though he had been certain of it before, this brought Kratos to another level of anxiety.

"Anna, you-"

"Please!" she exclaimed, interrupting him. Her head was bowed so he could no longer see her eyes, but there was still a twinge of fear in her voice. "Please, Kratos, I'll be good! I'll stop being so reckless, I'll stop getting into fights and putting myself in danger, I'll get better rest and eat right and all the things you tell me to do, just… please, _please_ , let me keep him."

Kratos froze. "I don't understand-"

"I'll study and learn everything I can about being a good mother! I'll read all the books I need to, even if they're the hard kind with no pictures! I'll do whatever I can to keep you from worrying- just let me keep him!"

"Anna, you…" Kratos stammered a reply through his shock. "…you sound like a little girl begging for a puppy. This isn't at all like bringing home a stray dog."

"I know! I know it isn't! But I still-"

"This is not some stray animal. This is _your child_. That's why I'd never force you to give it up or to make a decision you were unhappy with. Have a little more faith in me, would you?"

Her face shot up to look at him, and he saw the fear in her eyes replaced by a look of shock. "You…"

"You thought I put something in the tea. That's why you were so scared." For the first time in countless centuries, Kratos actually had to choke back tears. "How could you think I was capable of doing something like that to you? To _anyone_?"

"I… I just…"

"No, I shouldn't have said it like that. With the things I've done in the past, I shouldn't be offended by those sorts of assumptions."

"It's not like that!" Anna crawled out from her hollow and threw her arms around him. He let out a pained gasp as she touched his chest where he'd been burned, and she pulled back. "I'm so sorry. I panicked, that's all. But I didn't think you'd hurt me- not _really_. I just…"

Kratos pulled Anna so that she was sitting in his lap, allowing her to put her arms around his shoulders and lean against the good side of his chest. It felt good to have her close again, to know she was still comfortable being close to him. The idea that he would poison her, poison their child, had hit him too hard, and he didn't want to be too forward with her until he was sure she was no longer afraid of him.

"…remember about a year ago, when we rescued that little girl from the Desians?" Anna asked as she spoke up again. "I suggested we adopt her more out of guilt that we couldn't save her parents than anything else, but you shut down the idea so fast that I didn't have time to even consider if I really wanted it. I know you were right, that she'd be better off with that family in Izoold, but even so, what you said stuck with me. You said that it wouldn't be right to subject a child to the kind of life we lead, that the dangers we faced on a regular basis were not situations that a child should ever be in. So, a few weeks ago, when I found out I was… oh, _gods_ , Kratos, I was _terrified_. I was sure you'd convince me not to go through with it."

"That's why you tried to keep it a secret?" Kratos asked, placing a comforting hand against the back of her head. "No matter how sick you were feeling?"

"Like I said, it comes and goes…" Anna leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. "I thought that, if I could keep it a secret long enough, then I could tell you when I was far enough along that you'd have to let me keep it."

"I see. That's what you were thinking." It was a flawed plan in more ways than one, but Kratos wasn't in the mood to criticize her. He should be reassuring her. "You weren't completely wrong; I did consider whether or not this was a good idea. But it's not up to me. You're the one who has to decide what's best for you, and it's my job to support you through that. And if you decide you want to be parents-" He paused, the word suddenly feeling heavy now that he'd said it out loud. "-then it's also my job to be the best father I can be. It may be asking a lot, but I want you to trust me."

Anna leaned against the side of his chest, her voice betraying the tears in her eyes. "I never didn't trust you. I knew you would only do what you thought was best for me. I should've had more faith that my feelings would matter to you as much as my safety did. I'm sorry, Kratos."

She squeezed him in a tight hug, trying not to touch his chest where it had been burned. It wouldn't have mattered to him if she did, though. He just wanted to keep her close.

"I love you so much, Anna."

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "I love you too. And Noishe loves you, and-" She glanced over at Noishe for a moment and then took one of Kratos' hands in hers to place against her stomach. "-and _he_ loves you too."

Kratos stared for a moment, the sensation new and different. There wasn't a part of Anna's body that he hadn't explored by now, but he felt a sudden rush of nervousness like he'd had years before when it was all still new to him.

Even so, all the emotional turmoil couldn't silence the logical part of his brain.

"Anna… you know that's your liver, right?" Kratos moved their hands down a little. "The baby would be closer to here."

"Aw, come on." She made a show of pouting, but there was an amusement to her words that betrayed her relief at the familiar tone in his voice. "I was just trying to be sentimental. You know I'm no good with that sciencey stuff."

"And besides that, what's with this 'he' business? You can't know the baby's gender-"

"I'm his mother! I can tell!"

"Anna, at this point in development, even the _baby_ doesn't know what it is yet."

"Oh? You wanna bet?"

The two continued their playful argument, all too happy to return to their usual light-hearted banter. Noishe stayed beside them, his tail wagging in contentment as he settled down to listen and his eyes never straying from the scene.

Everything wasn't fixed, but it was at least on the right track.


	5. Better Left Unsaid

**"Better Left Unsaid"**

Tales of Symphonia  
Words: 1747  
Characters: Colette, Frank, Phaidra Brunel

 _Frank Brunel was the "father" of the Chosen, a job which came with a whole host of responsibilities. For sixteen years he followed the directions of the Church of Martel, raising Colette with the decorum and professional detachment expected of all the Chosen's family members. But with Colette's journey of World Regeneration on the horizon, Frank couldn't let his job end without expressing his true feelings at least once._

* * *

"Colette?"

The voice interrupted Colette as she was packing the last of her belongings into the bag she'd chosen for the trip. She knew the journey of regeneration would be long and difficult, but she didn't want to pack too heavily either. It would only force Raine and Kratos to carry extra luggage back to Iselia with them after everything was over. She didn't want to be any trouble for them- even after she was dead.

"Yes?" Colette replied, looking up from her things. It was still dark out, but in the candlelight she could make out Frank's face peeking through the crack in the door. "Father, is something wrong? I'm not meeting Professor Raine and Mister Kratos for another twenty minutes."

"Nothing's wrong," Frank answered, stepping in through the door and pressing it almost closed behind him. "I just assumed it would be better to see you off here instead of out in the village with everyone watching. Farewells aren't my strong suit, I'm afraid."

Colette frowned, her heart sinking. "You're not going to see us off?"

"No, no, of course I'll see you off. But I had some rather, ah, _personal_ things to say before you left, so I figured this would be the best place. Finish packing; I'll wait until you're ready to leave so that I don't accidentally detain you."

His professional tone wasn't unfamiliar to Colette, but there was something about it that seemed off today. He was usually very proper and reserved, shy about letting others get a glimpse of what he was feeling underneath his businesslike demeanor. But today there was something different, something unusual. His voice sounded almost… sad.

Colette shoved the last of her clothing into the bag and buttoned it shut. She turned around to face Frank, steeling her own tumultuous emotions. "It's fine, I'm already finished. What would you like to talk about?"

"Sit down." Frank took a seat on the bed and tapped the space beside him. Colette sat down obediently, looking up at his face as he continued. "Professor Sage told me that you met your father- your birth father- at the temple yesterday. Remiel, I believe he was called?"

"That's right," Colette answered with a polite nod. Something about the angel she'd met had felt off, but she didn't feel right saying so. "He seemed nice."

"I'm sure he did. He is an angel, after all."

For a few minutes after that, neither spoke.

Usually Colette enjoyed spending time in silence with her father- they were both the introspective sort who loved quiet activities such as reading and handicrafts. The times they spent together in the same room, each working on their own project while enjoying the simple reassurance of the other's presence, were memories that Colette was particularly fond of. But this time it didn't feel like that at all. The air was tense, and Colette could sense some nervousness in her father's posture. _What was it he wanted to say?_

"I…" Frank finally spoke again before the silence choked them both. "…I want you to know that I never thought of you… I mean, I never _didn't_ think of you as- er, what I mean to say is…" He paused, tongue-tied, and had to take a moment to regroup. "…no matter what the Church says about your parentage, I've _always_ thought of you as my daughter."

Colette bit her lip, choking back a wave of emotion. "I've always thought of you as my father too. After all, Lloyd says it's not blood relation that makes a parent, it's their love for their child. And he would know better than anyone, so-"

She cut off as she felt her father's hand against her cheek. Surprised, Colette looked up at him to see his eyes welling up with tears.

She had never seen him this way before.

"Every day lately you've been growing to look more and more like your mother. It makes me happy, and yet it's bittersweet. Our marriage was arranged by the Church, yes, but you should know that I loved Lucille from the bottom of my heart. Each moment she's been gone, I've missed her more and more. But having you here, seeing how gentle and kind and intelligent you've grown, has given me hope."

The words hit Colette deeply, but she put on the same restrained smile as always. "I am the Chosen. It's my job to give hope to the world."

"Yes, but… you haven't given me hope because you're the Chosen," Frank replied, shaking his head. "You've given me hope because you're my daughter, and I… love you…"

Before Colette knew what was happening, he had thrown his arms around her and squeezed her close, his chest wracked with sobs. The gesture melted her own composure, and she began to cry with her head against his chest.

"I love you too, Daddy! I love you so, _so_ much! Oh, Daddy, I don't want to go! I don't want to die!"

Frank began to rock back and forth, unable to choke back sixteen years' worth of tears and repressed emotions. "Don't go, love. Please don't go. Stay here with us, with me. I love you so much. To hell and back with this dying world and those awful angels; I won't let them take my little girl."

Colette sobbed even harder, not caring if anyone else heard by this point. He was saying the words she'd wanted to hear her whole life, the offer of a different choice, and yet she knew there was no power in them to make it so. It was all hopeless wishing. But if they were wishing, she might as well join in.

"Oh, Daddy, please let me stay here! I love you and Grandma! I love Iselia! I love Lloyd and Genis and the Professor and Bunz and… and…" She let out a pitiful wail, her words insufficient to express the depth of her feelings. "I want to grow up! I want to graduate from school! I want to fall in love and get married! I want to have a pet dog or three or ten! I want to meet new people and travel the world while still knowing I can come home whenever I want to! I don't wanna die… I just… don't wanna dieeeeee…"

Frank stroked her hair, rocking her back and forth in an attempt to soothe her sobs- and his own.

"Stay here, Colette. Stay here with me. I won't let those angels have you. I'll never let them take my little girl. Just stay here. Stay with me…"

The two remained like that for a long time, silently basking in the emotions that each other had held back for so long. For now, they could pretend that their brave declarations against Colette's fate were true, that they could really fight against thousands of years of tradition and the will of an all-powerful goddess.

For just this one moment, they could pretend that this one moment wasn't all they had left.

Eventually the clock in the hallway chimed, and Colette pulled away at the sound. She paused, still within arm's length of her father, and looked up at him.

"I… should go," she spoke with a forced smile, wiping the tears away from her eyes. "The Professor will be waiting for me outside."

"Yes, of course." Frank answered with a nod. "You go on ahead. Don't worry about your bag; I'll bring it out for you."

"Thank you, Father."

"You're welcome, Colette."

There was an awkwardly long pause before Colette was able to force herself to stand. She finally did, and offered her father a grateful bow before heading out the door and into the hallway. Frank sighed a long, weary sigh, and picked up Colette's bag to take with him. It was painfully light, but he knew better than to protest. His opportunity for that had come and gone.

As he exited the door, he noticed Phaidra standing outside in the hallway, her back to the wall. Suddenly self-conscious, he realized that the door hadn't been closed and wondered how much his mother-in-law had heard.

"M-Mother," he stammered, turning to face her properly, "how long have you been…?"

His question was met with silence at first. When she finally answered, her voice was low, whispered as though she didn't want Colette to overhear.

"You know… the morning before Aithra left on her journey, she and our mother had the same conversation."

"The same-?" Frank started to ask, and then lowered his voice as he realized that Colette was still downstairs. "The very same one?"

"Almost word-for-word." Phaidra nodded. "It doesn't matter what the Church of Martel says. No parent wants to give up their child, not even for the sake of the world. They would rather die themselves- or see the world die around them."

"I'm sorry, Mother, I-"

"Don't apologize." Phaidra patted him on the shoulder. "Don't you think that I, too, would do something about this awful system if I could? It took my sister away from me, and now it's going to take my granddaughter too. I just hope that whatever twisted goddess would demand the sacrifice of children is pleased with herself."

The silence that followed her statement was even more tense than before, her expression of distrust in their religious foundations completely unprecedented, at least to Frank. He tightened his grip on the bag he was carrying, his eyes averted as he spoke.

"I don't see how Martel could be dissatisfied with our precious Colette…"

"I thought the same about Aithra, and yet-" Phaidra replied, but cut off as she saw Frank's expression change. She shook her head and sighed, motioning him toward the staircase. "Let's just pray that Colette's sacrifice actually _means_ something."

The two walked in silence after that, but Frank's mind raced. He was overwhelmed by the storm of emotion he was facing now, churned up by his mother-in-law's recollections and observations. " _Pray, huh?_ " he whispered to himself. " _I don't know if I'll be doing much of that anymore._ "

He knew that he shouldn't do anything to anger the goddess, that he should be a devout follower and pray for world regeneration like everyone else, that he should always bow his knee to a goddess ruthless enough to demand child sacrifice. But, honestly? He really didn't give a damn what the goddess Martel thought of him at this point.

There was nothing more she could take from him.


End file.
